Endless

Sunday, May 22, 2016

He arrived home last evening around 8:30 p.m. and had soon staggered directly up to his bedroom. In short order, I heard him launching into one of his several-minute sneezing fits.

Meantime, I was watching T.V., and not at all looking forward to when he would come back downstairs and display his aggravating version of alcohol-induced dementia.

But time passed, and he never appeared.

Eventually I decided to check, for his bedroom light was on and the door was wide-open.

So upstairs I went...and there he was, feet on the floor while lying flat on his back upon his bed.

I turned off his bedroom light, and left him.

Eventually I was to hear him banging about, but he never did come back downstairs.

When I retired around 12:10 a.m., his bedroom door was closed.

I failed to amass sufficient hours of sleep overnight, although I seem to have managed an initial block of possibly five hours before becoming conscious enough to wonder on the time.

That was an exceptional feat.

I held off from rising, though, until just after 7:00 a.m. My youngest step-son Pote was up ─ he was to leave around 8:30 a.m. to catch his bus to work.

I spent the morning finally completing and publishing the new post I had begun on Wednesday at my Siam-Longings website: Thailand Adoption.

I couldn't help but wonder of my brother as I worked, but eventually I heard him rising for the day ─ he had managed to spend over 13 hours in that bedroom of his since his homecoming last evening!

Apart from an exchange of "Good mornings" as he passed by me here where I worked, we never spoke another word to each other. And he was to leave for the afternoon while I was lying down for about an hour starting early into the noon-hour.

He'll be hooking up with his girlfriend Bev and his drinking buddies, believe it or not.

I wanted to get out and do some sort of shopping this morning, but that infernal post held me up too long. I had already spent far too long with it ─ I could not postpone it yet again.

It is 1:56 p.m. as I type these words. Thus far, the day has been characterized by mainly clouds, with some breaks of sunshine.

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I have occasion to wonder on the state of my prostate ─ I am 66 years old, after all.

But I have lots of other things to wonder on as well, including what my testosterone status might be.

If you're an aging man, the following report about the prostate and testosterone might interest you:

Take those crooks at the FDA and toss them in jail, because new research shows yet again how their official advice isn't just wrong.

It's not even just dangerous -- it's outright DEADLY!

Not long ago, the feds warned guys away from testosterone therapy, claiming it might be harmful -- and you can bet the big headlines over a dire GOVERNMENT WARNING terrified men away from this therapy.

Now, the latest research shows how this fear-fueled decision to avoid treatment has hurt guys in a big way... because the study finds natural testosterone therapy will actually CUT your risk of a deadly prostate tumor.

Overall, the new study finds that men who have testosterone therapy have the same risk of prostate cancer as guys who don't.

But once you take out the harmless and common run-of-the-mill tumors and focus only on the aggressive and potentially deadly cancers, a different picture emerges.

It shows this treatment can PREVENT those killer cancers!

Men who have hormone therapy for at least one year are 50 percent less likely to have an aggressive prostate tumor than men who don't get treated.

Yes, friends, the FDA has just been caught lying to you. Again.

This isn't the only way the agency's crooked advice has killed -- yes, KILLED -- American men.

When the feds issued their bogus warning, they claimed testosterone can increase the risk of heart problems despite no real evidence to back that claim.

Since then, multiple studies have found hormone therapy not only WON'T increase the risk of heart problems, but can actually SLASH that risk in some men.

A major 2014 study of some 25,000 men found that testosterone cuts the risk of heart problems in men who have a higher risk for those problems, while a 2012 study found the higher hormone levels cut the risk of cardiovascular events by 30 percent.

In 2010, researchers found men with heart disease and low hormones have double the risk of death when compared to men with normal hormone levels.

And just last month, I shared a study that found men with low hormone levels who DON'T get treated for them are 80 percent more likely to suffer a serious heart problem.

So guys, don't let the FDA's BS scare you away, because their fear-mongering could put you six feet under.

If you haven't been tested for testosterone yet, march right into your doctor's office and get yourself checked.

And if it turns out you need to boost your levels, get it done... because as the science shows, your life could depend on it.

Giving fear the boot....

It's pretty rich how the report claims that it "shared a study" just last month, when in fact it never made any kind of reference to that study quite apart from offering a few observations about it.

I hunted up details on the latest study mentioned above, and I found that it has yet to be published ─ its details were presented on May 9 at the 2016 annual meeting of the American Urological Association.

If you are truly curious, you can access the abstract by clicking the second study listed here for urologist Stacy Loeb, but I will quote its details:

Introduction and Objectives
The association between exposure to testosterone replacement therapy (TRT) and prostate cancer risk is controversial. Although a recent meta-analysis found no increase in prostate cancer risk in men on TRT, the individual included studies had substantial limitations such as small sample size, short trial duration, or lack of a control group. Our objective was to examine possible associations between TRT and prostate cancer risk using nationwide registry data in Sweden, including data on TRT adherence and prostate cancer characteristics.

Methods
Nested case-control study in the National Prostate Cancer Register (NPCR), and the Prescribed Drug Register in Sweden, including 38,570 prostate cancer cases diagnosed from 2009 to 2012 and 192,838 age-matched controls. Multivariable conditional logistic regression was used to examine associations between TRT use and risk of prostate cancer, overall and by prognostic category (favorable=low/intermediate risk, aggressive=locally advanced/metastatic). Subset analysis was performed in men with >1 year of adherent use using data on filled prescriptions.

Results
284 prostate cancer cases and 1,378 controls had filled TRT prescriptions. In multivariable analysis, there was no significant association between any TRT use with overall prostate cancer risk (OR 1.03, 95% CI 0.90-1.17). However, TRT users had a higher risk of favorable-risk prostate cancer (OR 1.35, 95% CI 1.16-1.56), and a lower risk of aggressive disease (OR 0.50, 95% CI 0.37-0.67). Similar patterns were seen considering only men with >1 year of adherent TRT use. When stratifying by duration of TRT, the increased risk of favorable prostate cancer was observed already within the first year of TRT use; whereas, the lower risk of aggressive disease was only observed after >1 year of TRT use. After adjusting for previous biopsies as an indicator of diagnostic activity, TRT remained significantly associated with higher risk of favorable and lower risk of aggressive prostate cancer.

Conclusions
TRT use was associated with an early increase in favorable-risk prostate cancer, suggesting a possible detection bias. However, the finding of a lower risk of aggressive prostate cancer in the long-term among TRT users is a novel finding that warrants further investigation.

So there was an association of higher risk of escalating the so-called "favorable" prostate cancers when testosterone replacement therapy was used, but it had a lesser risk for the development of "aggressive" cancers.

The best thing I can say about my microwave is that it makes for an excellent clock: It's got big, bright numbers I can see from across the room.

I won't say I never use it to heat anything up. But since I don't eat TV dinners and I don't like reheated leftovers that have been turned into rubber pellets, it's basically a glorified coffee warmer.

But whatever you put in the microwave make sure you don't use a plastic "microwave-safe" plate or bowl.

They might be safe for your microwave... but they're anything but safe when it comes to you!

New research finds all that label really means is that these things won't melt when you nuke them, not that the food inside them is safe once it's been rubber-ized by the microwave.

If anything, it's just the opposite.

A new report in Time magazine finds "microwave-safe" plastics can have bisphenol-A (BPA) and chemical phthalates -- and the heat from cooking in those containers can cause the chemicals to leech out into your food.

And having those things in your food is worse than finding a bug in your soup.

BPA is used to make plastics as well as the linings on food containers and lids, but it's also a powerful endocrine-disrupting chemical that mimics estrogen so well your body thinks it's getting a burst of female hormones.

That leads to developmental problems in kids (which is why it's been banned from baby bottles) as well as everything from sexual dysfunction to obesity in adults.

Phthalates are also bad news, blocking testosterone -- which, again, screws up kids, causing little boys to run into the wrong bathroom and turning guys into weepy girly-men.

But if you nuke your food in a plastic container -- or eat those handy heat-n-eat microwave meals -- you could get dosed with one or even both.

Of course, you can still use your microwave if you really want -- just use it right.

First, don't eat frozen meals. Even if the containers were safe, the food inside is a pile of processed garbage. And frankly, I've seen dog food that looks more appetizing than most frozen dinners.

But for reheating leftovers in a pinch, go right ahead. Just don't use any plastic dishes and other rubbery "microwave-safe" bowls -- or metal, for that matter, unless you want to see some early Fourth of July fireworks!

Stick to glass or ceramic, and the only dangers will be to the texture of your food.

Nothing is going to change. The governments will not swiftly enact legislation banning these things; nor will manufacturers willingly undertake efforts to stop the production of plastics.

It's profit that matters ─ not public health.

Always.

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Now rounding out today's post is an entry from my journal of 41 years ago when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

THURSDAY, May 22, 1975I was up at 5:30 a.m.When I opened my door to head to mom's, I discovered a note from Dave saying he'd try to get down to S.A.N.E. and see me tomorrow.My walk was started in a local slight shower; this soon stopped, and the sun even peeked through the clouds once or twice; but it was again raining by the time I reached her place with the empty peanut butter can I had hoped to collect some pond foundation in for my tadpoles.Mail there was a Church of God letter I never opened, and AMRA #63.I had a starchy meal of macaroni with sauce, old fried mashed spuds, a bun with peanut butter, and three small pieces of chocolate cake. But before eating, my weighing revealed me to be still in the mid-190s.After mom went to work I grabbed about an hour's sleep, dreaming my teeth were in a terrible state of decay.After The Waltons at 9:00 p.m. I went way out back and searched for decent pond dirt; I found a frog, but I was obliged to cross 88th Ave and proceed up the tracks a short way before spotting anything in the dusk that satisfied me.Coming back, mom had just arrived. I'd left a note explaining my accidental destruction of her kitchen tap spray attachment; she was reading this, and I explained in person.

A trifling matter.

I left.

Just past the school house, where a couple small yappy dogs reside, I glimpsed through a window a young teenybopper lass going through a ballet-like motion; her form was so delighting I could not help wondering if I shall ever have a true love, and the means whereby this could be effected. Working, starting with Bill's cannery? Certainly I am going to have to move.

I should be abed by 11:40 p.m. at most.

My mother Irene Dorosh's home off in Surrey was my mailing address, so I hiked out to visit at least twice a week.

And although the little house is now gone, the address was 12106 - 90th Avenue. To hike from where I lived on Ninth Street, just above Third Avenue, in New Westminster out to her home took about 1½ hours at a fast pace.

The note I found just as I was about to set off was from my old friend Philip David Prince. We had known one another since Grade VIII at Newton Junior High School out in Surrey ─ the 1962/1963 school term.

David had his own room in New Westminster, but I was adept at minimizing contact ─ David had a habit of overstaying when he visited.

I worked one day a week ─ Friday ─ at a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends), and it was there of which he wrote that he would attempt to catch up with me.

I remember nothing of those salamander tadpoles now, but apparently I had acquired them on the previous Saturday.

The letter from the Church of God was a regular ─ monthly? ─ mailing sent out to church members and to tithers. I was a tither.

The darned letters could be many pages long ─ sometimes a dozen and more.

Amra was a science fiction and fantasy fanzine devoted to the "Swords and Sorcery" genre published by George H. Scithers (1929-2010).

I wish that I had retained the various fanzines of one sort or another that I subscribed to back then, but dire times were ahead for me, and I forsook most of everything I had owned.

I seem to have weighed 190 pounds and above for a number of months, yet now I do not recall being that heavy for such an extended period. My usual weight over the course of my adult life had been the low 180s.

My mother worked as an office janitress in the evenings through the workweek. Normally I would have headed on back to New Westminster in the mid-afternoon so as to get away before her husband Alex had come home from work. However, Alex was on his second week of a chartered tour of the U.S.S.R.

Thus, with him absent, I was able to snatch a good rest before the walk back to New Westminster.

Still, it surprises me to see that I watched The Waltons ─ I certainly loved the series. But that episode must have ended at 9:00 p.m., and that was when I ventured outside to seek some pond soil for the container of salamander tadpoles I had back at my room.

When I finally headed on back to my room after my mother had gotten back home, I think the school I must have been referring to was one that I would pass as I hiked the railway tracks: South Westminster Elementary School.

I trekked the B.C. Hydro Railway tracks from near the top of the Scott Road hill at 99 Avenue to where they later crossed Scott Road again close to the Pattullo Bridge. That stretch of the walk was usually the most pleasant, since I was away from street traffic, and it was extremely woodsy back then.

I was a very lonely young man ─ lonely for love, that is. I longed to be in a romantic relationship. But I had no job prospects nor skills, and I couldn't even drive a car ─ I never did get a driver's licence to this day.

My future in that respect seemed hopelessly bleak.

My old friend William Alan Gill worked at the Royal City Foods cannery that used to be located on the shore of the Fraser River, just slightly downriver from the Pattullo Bridge. I had recently been given an application by Bill, so I was entertaining the notion of perhaps applying.

My room was virtually dungeon-like ─ fine for a solitary young man, I suppose; but not anywhere a guy would want to be bringing a girl. It was filled with...junk, pretty much. I didn't own aught of any note in the sense of style.